In Your Heart Shall Burn
by Lusacan
Summary: *Recent edits to story, and a new intro chapter. I do plan on additional chapters as my schedule allows* Cullen is suffering from the effects of Lyrium addiction and a growing affection for the female Inquisitor, but more than one thing is keeping him from actualizing it. Will his feelings be unrequited, or is there something else below the surface? May become M in later chapters.
1. 1 Back to the Start

Welcome! Thank you for taking a look at my story! As my first publish, I will probably rewrite things often, but I will keep the main outline and mostly just elaborate on the details. I do hope I keep the soul of the characters as best as I can. Reviews are appreciated but not required! I am grateful for any feedback!

Preface: This is told primarily from Cullen's perspective. Cullen harbors a soft spot for the Inquisitor, who appears to be in a relationship with the Warden Blackwall, and is doing his best to deal with the increasingly dangerous effects of Lyrium withdrawal.

Note: I don't condone adultery, however there will be a tone of it within the beginnings of this story.

This will eventually contain cannon story spoilers.

Please enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own DA:I or the characters. Artistic liberties and such.

* * *

Cullen had never been a man of great romance.

Sure, he had known women, some even captured his attentions throughout his life, but he had never been active in the realm of… seduction. Maker, even that term made his cheek redden. That's not to say Cullen was inept, but certainly dearly afraid. His interest in Templar studies began at a tender age, and growing up "Chantry" did not instil a great amount of suave in one's character; the negative effect, one of chastity, would likely be preferred in his profession.

His duties, first to the Order at Kinloch; then under the command of Meredith in Kirkwall; now dedicated to the Inquisition, kept him from pursuing the softer art of courting. Even though he was not familiar with the concept, it was not for a lack of interest. There was something in the way a woman would glow when she was presented with a token of affection that Cullen grew a mild fascination with as he became of age. And as he aged to manhood he realized it was hard to be locked within the Tower. Sure, there were female Templars within the ranks that would tempt the idea of an off-duty romp, But there were also many mages in close proximity. As a result Cullen would eventually feel an inclination towards one of his charges.

The first to capture his eye had been Lady Amell at the Circle - she had been shy and beautiful, soft spoken and polite. They had spoken at times, always in hushed tones, sat together at prayer. He would catch her looking at him and she would not shy away but hold his gaze, with an intensity he had not believed could be rivaled.

Always shy smiles, and meaningful glances.

Always at a safe distance, like most things in his life.

Unfortunately, she had perished during her Harrowing - an event he was not pleased to have attended. During the descent into the Fade she had fidgeted and whined, a tremble shook within her body that had infected him as well as time stretched on. Trying to steel himself he had grasped at the hilt of his sword, twisting his fingers around the pommel and flexing his hold until his hands felt foreign, forming a nervous habit that maintained years later. Whatever had transpired had proved that lovely girl was not strong enough, that magic could corrupt even the most innocent. When the abomination emerged and he struck the final blow, he could feel it reverberate within him; the distrust, the first bricks of the first wall he would create were laid within himself in that moment.

Months later, when the circle collapsed, he had been tormented, punished. He had never considered the mages friends, it was against the job description, but he had considered them upstanding and cordial. They shared the same halls, the same foods, he had watched some of them grow into outstanding mages. Perhaps his involvement and good nature was what provoked them to spare him when they rebelled, if that's what you could call being spared.

They had provoked images of her - brought back to life, but not without the marks he had laid upon her body with the cold steel. Images of her, whole, and welcoming. Visions of her laid bare before him that would transmute into a voracious abomination with the sheer intent to torture and maim him. When the Wardens found him he was broken, distrustful, and full of hate. Some small part of him had told him he was brash and thoughtless, cruel and callous, but his heart won out and all its wounds demanded justice for transgressions brought upon him.

But she did not listen.

Instead she managed to save the mages from themselves, something he and his brothers were unable to do. She was an unknown; some small Dalish that appeared far too small to wield the axe and shield she carried. In other circumstance he might like to trade tactics with her, but he was of no mind for idle conversation. When she overtook the Circle he most likely would have admired her ability for diplomacy under stress, if it were not for the overwhelming betrayal he felt.

Blind rage.

Seething, he was retired from the Circle. Templar forces were decimated, there was no strong arm to guide the mages away from their own temptations. The mage forces that remained were conscripted into the Warden's army against the Blight. Kinloch was no place to remain for a torn man. The great spire was crumpled, covered in the remains of brother and foe alike. Instead, Cullen was retired to the chantry at Greenfell where he could heal.

Revisiting the teachings of the Chant of Light, he found some peace after some time. He learned to control his distrust, and most of all he had finally learned how to let go of the pain he felt from cutting down Lady Amell. A simple dairymaid by the name of Lila had helped him forget his sorrows, even if just for the night. Even though he had never intended it to be a serious endeavor, and the maid seemed to hold the same sentiment of their time together. It had ended a quickly as it had started and held even less meaning for him, save for the momentary distraction.

After a time, he had felt a return to his duties was necessary, and took a position within Kirkwall's ranks. A change of pace and scenery would do well, as Kinloch was the last thing he ever wanted to see again. However, Meredith was a loose cannon, grasping tightly to a position of power that was slowly slipping out of her grasp, and Cullen found himself wishing he had not returned so eagerly on more than one occasion.

Lady Hawke had been a beautiful woman, of that there was no doubt. Hawke saw through Meredith from the beginning, and in the end put the poor creature out of her misery. She had successfully resolved the mage rebellion - an issue that occurred most commonly when he was involved, it seemed. It was a foolish soul that would not admire the woman's tenacity, strength, and wit - if that was what you could call the dry humor that seemed to drip from her lips at all times and on all subjects. But even if he had felt anything for her, the tall dark elf that stood forever as a sentinel at her side seemed to challenge him and anyone else who would think to make a move. The river of emotion seemed to run deep between those two, and he was sure that if they were not romantically involved they should be. No, she was a beautiful and formidable creature, but she was not meant to be more than an ally to him. Not to mention that Hawke had a knack for frustrating him to his wit's end.

But she - she was something different.

She literally fell out of the sky and into his life, an unknown, an enigma. She had proven herself to be a force to be rivaled with from the first moment he met her; an arrow breezing by his head to extinguish the existence of a demon that had almost gotten the better of him. It was believed that he would never forget the moment, her bow raised and taut, hair gleaming in the sun, a reflection of the fire burning in her eyes. She amazed him again with her diplomacy, readily agreeing to assist the very force that had placed her in chains; the eagerness she had to push head first into harm's way to save the world time and again.

She had come to him many times in Haven, simply to talk, check on the troops, or ask about their companions. First he regarded her as a curious girl, she was several summers his junior. It was natural she would wonder about a full blown military force she had just become a major component of. He realized he considered her more of a friend when she had fallen into an extended sleep after closing the breech in the sky, having more concern for her than expected, but not more than was appropriate. He reminded himself and Cassandra several times of that fact.

But again she challenged the Maker when she chose to defend Haven, offering to give the rest of them time to flee in exchange for her own life.

There was a rumble, thousands of feet moving in unison, their steps reverberating off the mountain walls. Reports came in, only one lookout had made it back, raving about an archdemon, with five thousand mages at his heels. The bells rang out, their cries shrill and insistent. In a moment everyone was on their feet. Items that had been used now lay discarded and forgotten around the chantry as soldiers called to arms.

The battle was brutal, and every small victory was met with more loss. He knew, strategically, it was the best option, to give one's life to save thousands. Practically, it was a different story.

"What about it Cullen, will it work?" She turned to him, desperate for a way out of the incoming flood. She intended to distract Corypheus, decimate his forces.

"Possibly," he considered, "if he shows us the path. But what of your escape?" He questioned her hopefully, expecting a plan for retrieval. When she did not respond with words, but rather turned her head away from him, he knew that she was not expecting to come back. Trying to hide the shock from his features, he could do no more than offer little reassurance. "Perhaps you will surprise it. Find a way." He realized later that he had meant the last part as more of a demand, that she had no option but to make her way back to him.

He focused everything on getting the people of Haven away from the fighting.

Solas shot a fireball towards the sky as they emerged from the tunnels out of the chantry.

The fateful rumbling of rock hitting the mountain side signalled she had accomplished what she set out to do.

As the snow settled, the town that had been occupied now lay in rubble, smothered into the frost, absorbed back into the mountains. Cullen and a small contingent stayed behind while the rest forged ahead, intent on greeting the small group as they returned from confronting the Magister. An agonizing length of time passed before there was motion, and the Iron Bull emerged from the tunnel, grasping a limping Sera, with Dorian following several paces behind. Moments lingered into ages, and they allowed some time before several of them agreed that she would not be coming.

They made their way a small way into the mountain pass over the next two days, erecting temporary camps as they went. Each night, Cullen took a shift as look out, in hopes they would see her rise victorious over the crest of the mountain. No one mentioned that he tended to linger for several extra hours, "just to keep an extra eye," as was the common excuse, though no one was willing to question the commander.

When finally they saw a shape emerge from the snow drift, they first thought it the beginnings of Corypheus's army, pushing on to finish it's quarry. When she collapsed to her knees, he knew it was the Herald, and instantly sprang to his feet, calling out to the others that she was safe at last.

Solas had told her about a fortress in the mountains, one that he saw on no map, but the elf knew exactly how to reach. Though, he couldn't be upset with the mage. It was a strategic point. High on a mountain with little chance of a successful attack, and a large area in a lower valley to house the bulk of their forces and the ever growing number of people that joined their group.

He was overjoyed when the group determined she should be the Inquisitor. A decision he fully endorsed. Even more so when she came to talk to him shortly after, and the first thing she asked about was if the troops made it out of Haven safely.

He almost professed his feelings at that time. Damned it all, he should have. He chickened out at the last moment and simply pledged that he would never let something like Haven happen again. One morning he had decided he would just talk to her, let her know just how much it had affected him when she was lost at Haven, and see if something would come of it. He went to step out of his office and onto the battlements when he heard her voice.

She was speaking to Blackwall, the Warden. He'd always considered the man a bootlicker, but benign. Eager to please with a worship complex for Lady Trevelyan. But what he heard made him realize that maybe he had been wrong about their relationship the whole time.

"You can't afford to think I'm special."

"I'm fond of you, it's true, but this can't go any further."

"Whatever this is that you want, it's impossible."

Blackwall's words to the Inquisitor cut him. First, that she would even say something that would elicit that response from him. Second, that if she ever professed her love for someone that they would tear her down in such a fashion.

Cullen realized that her attentions were somewhere else, but he could not help but to feel that they were not returned in kind. Blackwall seemed to pull her in and push her back constantly. He was a conundrum, but he was a Warden, and they were an honorable group.

He had gone through so much, and so many losses, just to find the woman who made his heart race was chasing someone else.


	2. 2 Burn

_Laughter, light and airy, wisping away as if on a breeze. Jades glowing in the dark, bright and excited. Beautiful white teeth surrounded by equally enticing red lips, turned up in a smile. Hair the color of Embrium blooms flowing through the wind. Each piece individually pleasant, but brought together made up the most bewitching woman. He watched as she turned away from him, taking into a run; slowed as if time itself wished to appreciate this moment and the woman within it._

 _She ran several paces ahead, begging him to follow, looking back to make sure she had not lost him. He took several steps into the darkness, and could not help a smile spreading along his own face. She was infectious, every facet of her seeped into him until there was nothing left._

 _She paused and turned to face him, arms outstretched towards him, beckoning. He came to a rest in front of her close enough to touch, but resisting. It was she who outstretched her hand, a smile playing at her features. She took the tips of her fingers and ran them along his bare arm, lighter than a cool breeze. He relished the feeling, sighing in content, closed his eyes and rested his head back. He could feel the heat rise in her touch, burning their memory into his skin. He was vaguely aware of the tracing becoming warmer, culminating into a searing pain, and her hand more forceful in its grasp._

 _At first he enjoyed the sensation, but it quickly became unbearable, causing him to glance down at her, casting him into horror. He at once noticed her pallor, skin that should be glowing and beautiful was grayed and withered. The fingers grasping at his arm thin and gaunt, digging in painfully, pressing into his skin like a blade edge, threatening to pierce him._

 _As he tried to rid himself of her grasp she let out a demonic laugh, "What's wrong, Templar? Am I not enough? Not what you seek?" The crude teeth smiled behind cracked lips. "You are weak! Pathetic! A small, insolent, insignificant BOY!" It shrieked. As he fought harder to rid himself of the beast his skin felt that it was covered in liquid fire, burning him to the bone. It grew hotter and hotter. IT BURNED. He saw as the skin started to melt from his arm, charred and blistered from the fire that grew within it._

 _"Leave me...! No! Leave me!"_

 _.`.`.`._

"LEAVE ME!" Cullen roared, as he shot up in bed. He quickly glanced around, assessing the situation and reacquainting himself with his bedchamber. He shortly realized he had been in the throes of a Lyrium fit, and that life was as normal as could be in the hold. Well, except for the buzz of life outside - he should have been awake far before anyone else, and he dreaded to think if he had missed a War Room meeting. He pressed his hands to his face as a deep sigh escaped from the depths of his chest. Lifting his gaze he noticed the sun high in the sky above him. The wood above collapsed from exhaustion long ago giving out to age and weather wear, leaving a makeshift skylight in his rooms. Cullen ran a hand over his face, through his disheveled hair and let it rest on the crook of his neck, rubbing at the knots which had formed at the base of his skull. Even rest was restless now days, it would seem. He threw his legs over the edge, just as he heard a rasping at the door the floor below.

"Commander? We have news from the Hissing Wastes. Two more travelers have gone missing in that area, Ser." A scout called up to him.

"Thank you, Thornton. Please leave it on my desk and I will be down momentarily." He mumbled back, barely loud enough for the man to hear him. Once he had tugged on trousers and an undershirt that had been left folded at the foot of his bed he made has way across the room to his a large chest and armor stand.

The scout acquiesced and excused himself from his Commander's quarters, a loud audible groan from the door signaled his departure.

Cullen secured his armor, draping his cloak along his shoulders and anchoring it to the rest of his armor. He gazed upon the lion helm located near the bust from which his armor hung when it was not in use. It had been a present from Mia, his older sister, upon his coronation to Knight-Commander in Kirkwall. Of course he could never wear it at the time, but it was a magnificent gesture none the less, and had come in handy -quite recently in fact- and would again at the upcoming Battle of Adamant where he was determined to lead his men from the front of the force and not from behind a map. He descended the ladder and landed with a soft thump on the floor below. Headed toward the desk in the middle of the room, he had every intention of catching up on the news of the day and handing out edicts for the troops to follow. That was, until he heard them.

"Oh, toss it! Corifigus will have your toes if you plan to shoot like that! Ha!" Sera giggled maniacally, followed by a soft THUNK just outside the chamber door.

"Well, if you would hold damn still!" He heard her taunt back, _laughter, light and airy_. He shook his head, as if to clear the fog from it. " Sera, you are impossible!" He heard her call back at the maniacal elf. Two more THWACKS could be heard as if to solidify the fact.

"Coniferous, and Glowy-hands, sitting in a tree! AHH!" More giggles erupted from the small elf as three more THWACKS rang out in rapid succession, closer to the door leading to the battlements this time.

A growl was let loose from the accosted, playful yet ferocious, signaling she was at her wits end, _red lips, turned up in a smile._ He couldn't focus, they made too much noise, and he had to find out what was going on out there.

He opened the door to the battlements landing, a large square space overlooking the front gate of the hold. An arrow whizzed by, mere feet in front of him, searching for it's target. He stopped abruptly, realization what the noise was: arrows scattered about, some embedded in the mortar of the tower he had just exited. They were on the ground below, or at least she was; Sera was scaling the nearby staircase balancing on the railing, holding a target as a shield. She bounded away again, calling more taunts.

"Lady Inquisitor!" He called to the woman in the grass below in an attempt to gather her attention.

She had her bow drawn back, aimed at the elf and her target, eyes locked and arm unwavering as she lined up the shot. The breeze picked up - _hair the color of Embrium blooms flowing through the wind_ \- and with it carried his call to her ears.

She relaxed her draw and looked towards the sun, a smile spread to her face, _beautiful white teeth surrounded by equally enticing red lips_ , as she recognized him and waived back to him. "Cullen! Come down! Save me from this wretched torture!" She teased, glancing in the direction of Sera who in turn stuck her tongue out and bounded further away.

Cullen made his way down the battlement and onto the field to meet her in front of the gates. "Good morning, Inquisitor, I am glad to see you in such high spirits." He smiled, taking in the view of her sun-kissed skin. She wore not her usual grey attire, but a fine pair of breeches and a tunic with a light leather vest. It fit her well while still shielding her from the unforgiving mountain weather.

She chuckled, "but alas, Commander, I believe my spirits to be waning. Our elf 'friend' has been pushing for several hours and will not play fair. I fear I am beginning to wear out."

"Nonsense! The Herald of Andraste? Are you sure? I heard she took on three High Dragons at once without breaking a sweat. I doubt a bit of target practice could deter her." He teased, a smile pulling on the scar across his face.

She looked tired for sure but returned the smile anyway; he could not help marveling at how she lit up around him. _She was infectious, every facet of her seeped into him until there was nothing left_. He choked down the memory of the night terror trying to wash it away before she noticed. He smiled again, hoping she did not see his momentary shock, but nothing escaped the woman.

She reached out to touch his arm, _to make sure he was feeling well_? _To make the physical connection he so longed but forever denied_? Just before she made contact his heart broke a little more. Her back was to the gate, she was focused on him and did not notice the approaching contingent of soldiers, one standing out particularly from the rest.

The man swooped up from behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her slightly. Cullen watched her shock turn into glee as she grasped the arms that pulled her into the air. The Commander watched as she turned away from him, _slowed as if time itself wanted appreciate this moment and the woman within it._

The man placed her back down, turning her to him, "my lady," he crooned.

"Blackwall! You are back so soon!" She said excitedly, not expecting such a homecoming.

"Of course, my lady, I could not stand to be out of your presence for much longer. Come, I have much to show you." He tugged at her hand gently, pulling her towards the stables. When she did not come readily, Blackwall noticed Cullen, giving him a nod of greeting, and coaxing her to follow. Follow she did, as the Commander watched her departure. She glanced over her shoulder one last time before following the Warden into the barn.

Whatever she had seen on Cullen's face would have to wait.

He sighed, and began to walk the opposite direction, willing himself to focus on something other than his nightmares, other than the woman that simultaneously made them worse and better all at the same time. He headed back to the War Room, intent on solving this issue with the High Dragon.


	3. 3 Business with Dragons

Damned dragons.

That was the last thing they needed; a dragon flying around causing havoc while they battled demons and crazed Wardens. Cullen shifted through paperwork; trying to find the resources to handle a dragon as well as rebuild roads and settle land disputes was exhausting. After no time the maps and letters all seemed to blur together. He squeezed the tense muscles at the back of his neck. How naive, Cullen thought mockingly, ' _there's a rather large hole in the sky - let's waste the only force capable of ending it and the monster which created it on the squabbles of noblemen._ ' He sighed in frustration before a consideration came to mind. Bull liked dragons, maybe the Chargers would like to handle it.

He stepped away from the war table and gathered his missives, knocking over a map marker in the process. He knelt down to pick it up, but paused to admire the Inquisition symbol carved into it, so intricately designed. It was silly to think of how this symbol brought him such pride, when not long before a different symbol, one he was now saw on most of his foes, had roused the same feeling of fealty in his heart.

"Hello, Commander!" A woman's voice called out from behind him. He stood too quickly and slammed his head into the bottom of the table. "Oh my heavens, are you ok Commander?" Josephine asked, doing her best to mask laughter with sympathy, but failing all the same.

"Wh- Uh, why yes, Lady Montilyet, I am sure I will survive." He groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "I was just, uh, going over some requests for the Inquisition."

Josephine's eyes lit up, "Ah! I did want to speak to you about the upcoming meeting at Halamshiral. We need..." Cullen's eyes glazed over at the mention of Orlesian politics. How the woman could be so interested was beyond him, but that quality was what made her the best at her job. "...and that is why we must commission a carriage, as well. It would be atrocious for the Inquisition to arrive on horseback! However, I will arrange that, Cullen I just need you to do your part, yes?"

"Ambassador, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but the ball is not for some time still. Might we preoccupy ourselves with the matter at hand? The Wardens are an unknown currently and we must focus on this, do you not think?" He stated gently but firmly.

"The Game takes lives just as war does, Commander. It would be negligent to let it take that of the Inquisition's before it can fulfill it's purpose, is it not? We must prepare, fully, in advance for this meeting as all eyes will be on us and Lady Trevelyan," she chided him.

Looking for reason to step out of the conversation he mumbled, "Uh, yeah, of course Lady Ambassador, whatever you may need. I am sorry but I must speak to the Chargers about something," and with that he hurried out of the room.

He scanned through missives as he walked, head down, eyes focused on the paper in his hands. Too busy studying the last known whereabouts of the high dragon, he did not notice anyone in front of him until he felt the hard clash of his suit against another's armor. "Oh, excuse me," he looked up to find his own eyes lock with gray ones. _How fitting._

"Hrumph," the Warden grunted, a small smile across his face.

"Oh, Blackwall, my apologies, I must watch where I am going. What brings you in? I would not expect you in the great hall. I figured you found wood walls preferable to stone ones." Cullen said curtly, straightening up from the hunched form he had been. He squinted his eyes and pulled one side of his mouth into a smirk. The jab was benign and they often spoke half-truths to each other in a sense of camaraderie that they shared. He may have envied the man, but he did not hate him for it. There was a nagging feeling he got around Blackwall, however, that he just couldn't place at times.

Blackwall laughed and clapped a hand on Cullen's shoulder. "You, templar, are what brings me into the hall. However, I do visit for less formal reasons, on occasion." Blackwall shook him lightly to emphasize the double entendre. His smile faded slightly as they began to walk together, "This visit is business. However, you seem to be fleeing from some of your own."

"Josephine's infinite grasp on Orlesian court," Cullen sighed, casting a sideways glance at Blackwall. "I am sure I signed my life away at some point in the conversation, but I was too distracted to know the price."

"Ah yes, the lady does know a way with words, much as the company she keeps." Blackwall pondered.

Cullen knew there would be some mention of the Inquisitor coming and had prepared himself the topic that was sure to grace their conversation. "I am sure the Herald will do well with nobility as she is one herself. No reason to worry about a court appearance, even if there is an assassin. If she is half as sharp or fast as her daggers she will be in no troub-" He cut himself off when he saw a peculiar look in Blackwall's eye. "You do not wish to speak of intrigue." He said shortly, glancing at the ground for a moment.

"I wish to speak to you about the preparations for Adamant." Blackwall said flatly, all niceties gone from his expression.

Cullen knew this topic would come sooner of later. He straightened his posture and clasped his hands behind his back. "You know I have no control over the Inquisitor's ultimate decisions; If she does not wish to risk your sanity by bringing you I cannot overturn her. We are lucky enough you have managed to be resistant to the Calling so far, such proximity may provide the final breaking point." He felt this appeal to his softer senses may end the conversation at hand.

They had begun their descent down the front staircase when Blackwall stopped abruptly. "Cullen, you are the Commander of the Inquisition, surely you have your own forces you must rally, perhaps there will be one additional recruit in the ranks, or has the Lion turned into a house cat?"

Cullen sneered, the edge of his scarred lip turned upwards, "do not feign to question my command, Warden, and moreover do not question your Inquisitor's. You would think within her good favor you would care for her requests and, daresay, happiness more than your own selfish pride." Cullen would not have his own authority questioned, and he would never dare question Lady Trevelyan. "Perhaps your appearance may have an advantage with your brothers-in-arms, but I am not the one to decide. If she calls upon you when the time comes it is with her own strength she does it, not mine. Now, since this discussion has reached it's end, I must resume my duties - good day." And with that he turned and strode down toward Herald's Rest and the sparring ring, leaving the Warden to find his own path back to the stables.

"COMMANDER!" Iron Bull called from across the room, smashing a massive tankard into the table, grog splashing over the side. "Come over here, and join us!" He called with a deep laugh.

It was only mid-day and the Qunari already seemed to be a bit inebriated, but after the conversation he had just had, and a quick round in the sparring ring with some unsuspecting recruits, Cullen was not opposed to sharing a drink with Bull and his Chargers. Cullen began a brisk walk towards the far table but slowed when he got close enough to realize the Chargers had an extra body at the table. A body that he knew he should not have memorized in quite so intricate of detail, faced away from him, drinking from her own much smaller glass. She turned to look at him with a smile, waving lightly.

"Oh, Lady Inquisitor, I hope you are well."

"As good as one can be these days," she smirked and made space along the bench for him to fit in beside her.

He squeezed between the Inquisitor and Krem, catching a whiff of her hair in the process. She smelled of Vandal and Lotus, and he wished he could feel her bare arm through his armor as it brushed across his. He only realized he had been still when Krem jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. The man gave him a sideways glance and Cullen cleared his throat while clearing his mind.

"I cannot stay long, but I did wish to speak to you about a dragon, Bull."

"You have my full attention, Chief"

"There is a high dragon, in the Western Approach. I want to see if we can send a force to clear it before the taking of Adamant. I know you like dragons, figured you may want a trophy." Cullen forced all of his attention on Bull and not on the warmth growing from his left forearm where he was acutely aware her arm made contact with his.

"The Chargers and I would love to! You wanna tag along, boss?"

"Oh, no Bull, I would only get in your way. I should stay here and prepare for Adamant or Halamshiral. Honestly, I am not sure which one should seem more imposing and deadly." She chuckled and finished the cup in her hand.

They stayed like that for a short time, Bull discussing all the dragons he wanted to face off against, her rich laughter every time Krem took a jab at Bull. After a time he noticed she was not paying attention to the story, but to himself. He was acutely aware that she watched him from the corner of her eye, processing every move or statement he made. She was beginning to unnerve him. He had hardly been paying attention to conversation and did not notice when it had turned to him.

"What do you say, Commander? Any wild stories from your Templar days? ...Any wild ladies?" Bull added the last part with a chuckle.

"Wha? Oh, um, no, Bull, fraternization is looked down upon. There was one... woman... that was interesting. She did not survive her Harrowing, so I was unable to know her better." He trailed off, and in doing so caught the Inquisitor's eye. They gazed at each other for what must be a moment but felt an eternity. She had a knowing look about her, one that understood he was broken, even if she should not understand the reason.

Cullen could not stand the proximity much longer and excused himself from the table. As he was leaving the tavern he once again ran into Josephine. "Ah, Commander, I am glad I have found you. The comtesse is here and would like to begin instruction." She clutched at his gloved hand and pulled him towards the great hall.

"Comtesse? Instructions?" Cullen lagged behind her, trying to remember the conversation they had just that morning. It was all too apparent when they came into the great hall cleared all except an Orlesian noble and a small band. _Dancing lessons._

He would rather face the dragon singularly. He would rather face his troops in nothing but his small clothes.

Maker, did he hate politics.


	4. 4 Battle of Adamant

Thank you to the guest comment from Heather about the typo on Stroud's name! Sometimes auto correct is not my friend! ;)

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The wind was hot, even in the dead of night, carrying with it sand that cut into Cullen's face. Adamant was in view, trebuchets calibrated, and troops in position. The deafening crack of the battering ram sounded, wood splintered, as it made its first contact with the gate as the ladders went up the walls. He caught glimpse of the Herald, standing ready at the gate with her closest companions. It appeared that Blackwall had managed to convince lady Trevelyan to include him, as he stood alongside Dorian and Bull at her back. Cullen's heart squeezed in his chest as he watched her slip into the hole the battering ram had created. He knew she did this sort of thing almost daily, but to watch her in action was awe-inspiring and incredibly stressful.

Motioning for his troops to follow, he made his way down the hill towards the crumbling gate. The clang of steel to steel, battle cries and last breaths rang out all around him in a flurry. Senses muddled and sharpened, focusing as he made contact in battle. Reflex overcame him and dropped foe after foe, allowing muscle memory to take over. Only when the onslaught of heated bloodlust subsided, and the last enemy lay at his feet did he head to the gate, breathing hard from the exertion but willed his legs into a steady canter.

"All right Inquisitor, you have your way in. Best make use of it." He called as he came to a stop beside her.

"I'll be fine, just keep the men safe." Jade eyes bore deeply into his own, doing their best to convey the message as an order rather than a request.

He nodded briefly in acknowledgement. "Warden Stroud will guard your back. Hawke is with our soldiers on the battlements. She is assisting them until you arrive."

She nodded, and turned towards the fortress doors. He held out a hand towards her as if to grasp her arm, but let it fall. Be careful, stay safe, he thought to himself as she disappeared from view.

Throughout the battle he maintained his position, not letting thoughts of the Inquisitor cloud his judgment. That was, until he saw the archdemon on the horizon. It made its descent towards the hold, swooping in where the Inquisitor was due to be facing the bulk of the Grey Warden forces. He had promised her, after Haven, that this would not happen, but it did. He stood by and watched it. He should have been at her side! Abandoning all reason, Cullen raced through the fortress, passing corpses of friend and foe alike. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs threatened to give out. He stopped just short of an open rift.

Signs of battle showed the group had been here recently; bodies were scattered about and upon a higher landing he could see what appeared to be a small elvhen woman atop an altar, no life lingering in her eyes. A thundering crash from above caught him off guard, pulling his thoughts from the unfortunate woman, and signaled where the fighting had moved to. Following the direction of the dragon's flight, he ran to get a better view of the situation. The Commander witnessed the dragon fall and the battlement began to crumble, with it he saw people falling - one with a glowing hand. He could do no more than watch in horror as a massive rift opened below and they fell within, the dragon catching flight and fleeing before being held captive in the tear like the rest that were not so lucky.

Suddenly there was screaming, a deep noise, filled with rage, and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from himself. "I PROMISED!" He roared, "Maker! I promised to protect you!"

He heard a groaning from the rubble, someone must have made it out! As he got closer he heard a strangled chuckle coming from the curled up form laying on the stones. Erimond. It was the Tevinter mage. "YOU DID THIS!" Cullen roared. He felt out of control, he never felt out of control, but he could not quell the overwhelming fire in his veins. He rounded on the mage and grabbed him by his collar.

The mage laughed again and this enraged Cullen. He lifted the man away from the ground a few feet before sending him crashing back into the stones. "Where are they?!" He yelled, slamming the man several more times, not releasing his grasp, even when the Vint went limp in his arms.

Mages were a bane on his existence, he seethed. They caused the fall of the Circle in Ferelden, they were the cause of the explosion in Kirkwall. He could feel himself slipping further from reason and was enthralled as the searing anger overtook him.

"Commander!" A scout called from behind him. "COMMANDER!"

He turned, hands still burrowed into the mage's robes, his face pulled into a sneer. His visage was returned with one of horror from the soldier. The men he should be so composed in front of were afraid of him. He did not let go of the mage, but relaxed his stance and cleared his throat.

"This man will be taken into Inquisition custody. He must answer for his crimes. Stay here and secure the area for the Inquisitor's return," Cullen spat through gritted teeth. He pulled Erimond's half-conscious body up with him and hauled him from the hold.

When Cullen returned to the battle camp he pushed the mage off on one of the soldiers and quickly retired to his own tent. He crumbled once safely inside, burying his head in his hands. What is wrong with me? He thought, shaking. He was breaking down, not sure if it was from the Lyrium withdrawal or the Inquisitor's uncertain departure. He had watched her fall into the Fade rift and could not handle it. Someone could survive the Fade once, she had proved that, but a second time? Willing the anxiety and fire from his blood, he unleashed his rage in a burst, shooting out a booted foot that connected with some nearby crates, splintering the wood. He proceeded to thrash it until his leg grew tired and the unlucky cask was no more than a pile of wasted wine and wood pieces. His energy waned and he finally came to a rest, pushing his weight against a support beam. He covered his face, closed his eyes, and willed his heart to slow it's hammering. Unsure of how much time passed, Cullen attempted to steady his breathing and consider next steps. Erimond was in custody. The mages involved were disposed of or dispatched. The remaining Grey Wardens would need to be held for trial, investigated, to determine their involvement and associated punishment. The troops would need to be looked after, healed, and fed.

There suddenly came a call from outside his tent, "Commander, news of the the Inquisitor has returned! The Warden Stroud is lost, and the Wardens are now under our command, Ser!"

Cullen looked up, surprised. So soon? Time moved differently in the Fade, to be sure. He quickly got up and dusted himself off. He may have lost composure in the heat of battle, but now was the time to check in with the troops and reconvene with the Inquisitor. He could only hope there was a limit to who had witnessed his break in composure and that those involved would attribute it to the battle and nothing more.

Over the next several hours Cullen had little time to meet up with the Inquisitor, instead devoting his time to ensuring the troops were well enough to move and securing those too injured with safe passage back to Skyhold. When he did glimpse the Inquisitor on the trek back to the hold she did not look well. Not damaged physically, but there was something hollow in her eyes. Blackwall, he noticed, kept an odd distance from her as well.

When they arrived back to Skyhold she was still distant and cold. He could tell she was trying to provide a normal appearance, but was not succeeding. He figured it was due to the loss of the Warden Stroud, but she had lost associates before and had never acted in such a way. Maybe it was becoming too much for her. He resolved himself to checking on her personally when the time came.

For three days following their return she had not said anything to him or any of the other advisers. When he had seen her at the sparring ring and attempted a polite wave she promptly turned and climbed the stairs the the main hall. Several times he could have sworn he had seen her out of the corner of his eye only to find a light mist of purple smoke wafting through the air in the general direction she had been. Finally he had decided enough was enough and he would speak to her directly. After some search he located her in the undercroft, working the forge on a steel sword.

"Inquisitor..." He came up behind her slowly, hoping she would not be as evasive as she had been before. Dagna and Harritt were retired for the night, thankfully, shuffling off to whatever corners of the keep they resided in when not working. Bereft of their usual presence, the hold had an oddly eerie feeling to it, the only light emitting from the forge, casting light upon the frozen arches in a feverish dance. She must have known of his presence, the door leading to the Undercroft was thick and it's hinges made the worst cries of agony any time the door was moved, even if just by a brief gust of wind. Yet she did not acknowledge him.

She slammed the hammer into the steel much harder than necessary, bending and warping the steel. He swore he could see the slight tremble in her hand, a sharp spike of her shoulders up and down in a labored breath.

"Inquisitor, is this a Free March method? It seems impractical..." He tried to be lighthearted. Still she ignored him, hitting the steel over and over, though her energy waning. As he got closer he could hear light sobbing below the loud banging on the anvil. Concerned, he grabbed her shoulder and she instantly stopped her swing. She took a large breath and allowed herself to slump, shoulders curving as a deep rumbling breath shook her frame.

"I am a lie," she released as barely an audible whisper. He stood still, closer than was necessary, waiting to see if she would elaborate. "I am not Andraste's chosen. I am a lie." She dropped the tools, turned to look at him, her eyes swollen from crying.

He considered her for a moment. He was not sure where this was coming from, but in that moment he knew she was moreso Maker sent than she could ever imagine. Also, she was fragile. She, a pillar of strength and command, never fearful, ever reverent, like everyone else needed reassurance. She was not invincible, and in this moment she was more beautiful than ever.

"Even if you are not sent by Andraste, you are not a lie. Everything you have sacrificed, every triumph, those were not lies. Can you not see your worth?" He slid his hand from her shoulder and down her arm grasping her hand in his. Both sets of eyes rested on where they met as he turned her hand over to expose her mark. "This," he ran his thumb across the glowing line in her hand studying it, "does not define you. You are so much more than that."

He looked up to see her eyes intent on his, something demanding behind them that he could not place. He quickly released her hand, realizing the proximity of their bodies and shifted, not sure if he should run or stay.

Without warning she stepped forward and buried her face into the lining of his cloak, grabbing at the fur with her hands. "Oh Cullen," she sobbed lightly, "it was terrible. I saw things no one should see."

He froze for a moment. This was not just unusual behavior for her, but downright odd. He was unsure how to react. Throwing away caution he enveloped her in his arms; she may be the leader of the Inquisition, but she was still a woman, and she was not impervious to all. It made him wonder, however why she did not seek Blackwall's comfort. He stiffened for a moment but put it to the back of his mind. His jealousy could suffer this moment because she took comfort with him, and that was more important.

As if she could read his mind, or maybe a reaction to his involuntary movement, she suddenly looked to him and took a step back, a look of mortification on her face. "Please forgive me, Commander, my lapse in judgment, I should not have accosted you so," she mumbled, flustered. He released her, embarrassment tinged her face a light pink. Even with swollen eyes she was magnificent.

He watched as she walked the length of the room and moved as if to leave. As she pulled the heavy wooden door open, she hesitated for a moment before exiting. "Thank you, Commander," she said looking back at him, "I am not sure what I would do without you." And with that she slipped out of the room. He squeezed the muscles at the back of his neck, tonight is going to be a long night, he thought to himself.


	5. 5 Moving Pieces

"They should have had your resolve, Blackwall. You've never faltered. You never will." The inquisitor leaned against the well with a hopeful look on her face.

In return the bearded man let out a small huff and gazed at her for a moment, his brow creasing, before speaking, "Before the inquisition... before you, I had the Wardens, and the vow I made to them. Before that... I was nothing," his voice lowered as if chastising himself. "It's not the armor, it's not the Joining that makes a Grey Warden. A Warden is a promise, to protect others," his shoulders heaved as he became passionate about the subject. Her mouth was left agape as she tried to process what was going on. Their conversation had started out about the battle of Adamant and it seemed to her that maybe it had evolved into something else for him, but Blackwall did not give her time to inquire. "No matter the cost," he dropped the ax in his hand and turned his back to her, "even at the cost of your own life," he said flatly as he let out a defeated sigh and walked towards the barn he spent most of his time in.

Cullen's attention had been grabbed by the initial swings of the ax into wood when he had stopped on the battlements, and had stayed when he noticed how tense their conversation seemed. He watched as she followed Blackwall a few moments later, her steps long and deliberate. He could barely make out her small hands wrapped into balled fists from the distance, but there was no mistaking the tense in her shoulders that, in that moment, made her appear like she could face an ogre head-on with nothing but her bare hands and sharp wit. When she disappeared from view he couldn't help but wonder what the exchange he had just witnessed meant, or the odd interaction he had with the Inquisitor days before had meant, of if one had anything to do with the other.

Cullen straightened, coming back to himself and regained his grasp on the list in hand. He had set out that day intending to take stock of what the armed forces needed for requisitions. Due to the recent battle they were sorely lacking in good armors and weapons and needed to restock before mounting any further large expeditions. The Inquisitor and her immediate party were always well stocked, the lady commonly taking it upon herself to critique the quality of the arms, but he was responsible for the general forces. He had already spoken to a few soldiers and scouts that needed a new pair of greaves, bracers, or one in particular who had received a nasty blow to the breastplate by a poorly swung broadsword. There was still a whole section of the keep he needed to confirm with before his list would be finished, however.

He took one last look at the barn where the two had disappeared to and turned to continue back towards his offices. He decided that he would not push her to explain herself or confront her about the interaction and would allow her to come to him if she deemed it necessary.

.`.`.`.`.

"Cullen? May I speak to you for a moment?" a sharp accented voice came from across the room. He stood with hands gripping either end of the heavy desk in the middle of his quarters and glanced towards the door, eyes adjusting to the new assault of light from the doorway. Hastily he shoved the small ornate box into the top drawer of his desk as the unmistakable shape of Leliana's robes stepped from the doorway and into the room. "I wish to inquire about any observations you may have made regarding the Inquisitor lately."

He looked up to her, squinting from the light behind her, shifting his weight to block it out with her form. "I may be mistaken, but are you not the Spymaster? I am sure anything I could tell you would already be known." Cullen released the desk, moving his left hand to squeeze the back of his neck, putting pressure on the two tendons on either side. Leliana simply shifted her weight and crossed her arms, giving him a knowing look. Releasing a sigh, he dropped his hand and looked to the ceiling, "there seems to be tension between her and Blackwall since Adamant." He leaned his back against the desk, lowering his gaze to the wall, but not quite to meet her eyes yet. "I found her in the undercroft in a very... distraught state. Just now they seemed to be fighting, but I am unsure. She is reserved and more moody than normal, and not in a positive way." He glanced down to see Leliana in thought and moved to recover, "I in no way think she is unfit or distracted from her duties, just that there seems to be some sort of weight on her mind lately."

"That was not exactly what I was considering, Commander," she returned and he softly let out the breath he had not realized he was holding. "Thank you for your insight, I must take your leave." He watched as her brow furrowed and she chewed on her thumb, distracted. She turned on her heel and returned from where she came, making great strides across the bridge back to the rotunda.

Cullen stood, blinking a couple times, wondering what she could be conspiring towards. Deciding intrigue was not his forte he turned to his desk to retrieve the forgotten box. His hand rest upon the handle to the drawer when he faltered and considered if he should leave it alone. The box that rest inside contained the vial of what was the last reserve of his lyrium. He hadn't taken it in months, which was apparent in his lack of sleep and fitful dreams when he was finally rewarded with unconsciousness. He had vowed he would not let it jeopardize his command, and Cassandra had promised to keep him in check, but that did not mean he couldn't keep it as a reminder. Occasionally he would pull the box out and gaze at the finely shaped carving and metal inlay on the lid; marvel at the beautiful crystal that contained the softly glowing blue liquid within. It felt like staring down a monster every time he was able to put the box away before succumbing to the need, strengthening his resolve every time. His hand dropped from the drawer handle. He decided he would leave it, although it was not in it's normal hiding spot, and focus on his task for the morning; the first thing he needed to do was to visit with Harritt.

After making his way down to the undercroft he spoke with the blacksmith and showed him the list of nearly 100 pieces of armor or weaponry they would need to replace. Harritt explained that they did not have enough raw material in the hold to make all of the pieces, but that he could fashion most of the weaponry he needed at the forge with the available materials. Seemingly, the only other option to get the armor, or even the materials to make armor, was to strike a deal with one of the merchants in the small makeshift marketplace they had set up which contained a few traders. They had suffered heavy losses during the battle and sending soldiers out to scavenge supplies was not realistic, compounded by the recovering Grey Wardens they were now housing it was impossible. Resolved to his last option, Cullen made his way down to the marketplace to speak with the merchants.

In his haste Blackwall brushed past the Commander who had been speaking to the merchant Bonny Sims, trying to work out an agreement to procure the requisitions. Speak may have been too strong of a word, Cullen considered, in truthfulness he had been loosely listening to his own conversation after seeing the Warden stalk out of the barn and the main gate and drawbridge of the hold. He did not carry any equipment, save the light horsehair gambeson he usually wore around the hold and his sword at his side. Oddly he did not take a mount with him, which meant he must not be going far, at least. The Commander tried to determine what transpired as the merchant absentmindedly droned on about the shipping requirements to get armaments through the winding mountain pass to the hold, unaware of the drama unfolding before her. Cullen glanced at the Inquisitor who had followed behind the Warden before stopping short and raked a hand through her hair, roughly pushing the escaping strands back into the bun she wore, and kicked at a pile of dirt. As if magnetically her eyes snapped up to lock on his from the short distance before her shoulders slumped, she pursed her lips and walked towards the stables. Cullen hastily excused himself from his one-sided conversation, handing Bonny the list with a quick request to make it work regardless of cost in coin or manpower. He quickly followed the Inquisitor under the covered awning where he found her, leaned against the wall of stable doors arms folded and head down. Her eyes focused on an unseen point in the adjacent wood beams that had apparently offended her, based on the glare it was receiving.

"I am sorry, Lady Trevelyan, I did not mean to eavesdrop -" A sudden kick to the door of the empty stable by flat bottom of the Inquisitor's boot surprised Cullen. Surely she could not be so upset at him that she would resort to outward violence. Quickly he back peddled, not sure of what he had stepped into. "Please accept my deepest apologies, Inquisitor, I will take my leave," he politely bowed to her and turned to leave.

A frustrated groan came from the stables, "Blackwall does not wish to visit Halamshiral."

He took pause and slowly turned to face her. Her arms had come uncrossed now slumped with signs of defeat. Emeralds waded through pools of honey as her steely gaze did not release his, searching for something he could not name. Taking a moment before replying, he stepped forward and leaned against a nearby post. "I am sure he has a good reason, Lady Trevelyan."

Tilting her head to the side slightly she studied him, "he believes his duty is to his fellow Grey Wardens, and will be joining them in the lower camp with the main force until we leave for Halamshiral." A slight snort escaped her, followed by a gentle shake of her head. "I don't know what I did wrong, and he has been so distant since… the battle. I didn't exile the Wardens, I tried to save as many as I could, you would think he would be happy, but he seems so much more distant."

Dropping her gaze he studied the hilt of his sword. Perhaps he did not need to stalk the hold in full armor, maybe he should be in more casual wear as the lady before him, but he could not bring himself to dress down. The sword at his side served purpose and without it he served none, at least that was what his training as a templar had ingrained into him. It was harrowing to think of how things had changed in the last several years, going from a devoted templar to fending off a corrupt leader, challenging a grand mage rebellion, then leading an army. Worst of all was the battle he faced personally everyday, wondering if his choices were the right ones or if he missed chances. "Going against your order and commander is not an easy battle. To fight everything and everyone you ever stood for, regardless of their corruption or twisted views, is very taxing. Give him time, he will come around." A weak smile graced his lips as he returned his eyes to her face.

She softened, considering his words, "thank you, Cullen, you place a good perspective on the subject." Kicking away from the stable door, she motioned for him to follow and he did. As they walked they discussed her plans to make improvements to the hold, and she was glad to see his delight in designating a tower to the few templars they had in their ranks. He may no longer be of the order, but he would like to see those he used to call brothers-in-arms with a nice place to rest. As their conversation went on it became more personal, discussing each other's favorite pastimes, hers most recently having been spending time with Krem in the tavern listening to stories about the chargers, his being playing chess, as his sister had taught him when he was younger. Bringing up his sister brought them into conversations about family, as well as their second tour of the rotunda much to the irritation of Solas, and eventually their pasts. Running out of places to walk, or reasons to explain their visits, they found the kitchens empty and decided to grab a snack and sit beside the hearth. They spoke of everything and anything, his time in Honleath, hers in Ostwick and their mutual experiences within the chantry system. When she attempted to ask about his time in the Ferelden circle he gave a polite yet vague answer and directed the conversation elsewhere. She must have been aware of his hesitance to speak of it because she did not press the topic further. Cullen did take the chance to mention Samson, an old associate who was now leading the red templars. He didn't have anything solid but some mentions of mining locations and she promised to check the lead out the next time she went on an expedition. Before long they were shooed out of the kitchen by the staff who was beginning the preparations of the evening meal. They took their leave and headed upstairs towards the main hall where they stopped to make their goodbyes for the night.

"Thank you, Cullen. It felt good to forget the exhaustion of the day for a little while." A small smile tugged at the side of her mouth and her eyes shone with admiration.

"It was my pleasure, Lady Inquisitor. Please have a good night." He slightly bowed and turned to walk out of the hall when her voice called out to him.

"You owe me a game of chess!"

Smiling, he continued out of the hall and across the courtyard to his tower, unable to think of a better way he could have spent the day.


	6. 6 Nightmares and Detours

He could feel it within his veins, the sweet poison burning it's way through his system, carving a path along his nerves. The feeling numbed him and awoke him at once, spreading from his extremities to his core sending his heart racing as it sought out it's release. He watched as the blue spread like a fire, racing it's way through his veins and welcomed the oblivion it offered. First to go was the pressure in his brain, the nagging itch behind his eyes and at the base of his spine that plagued him. Next was the pain in his body, as if every muscle was shielded, coated and protected. He marveled at how simple it had been to let go, to give in and accept, the pain, the emotion all becoming hazy memories. His eyes closed and he slumped against the wall, the philter flask dropping from his hand as he sagged to the floor, a light smile playing at his lips. He hadn't been this serene in a long time. It felt as if he were clear, and there was no pressure, decisions, or feelings to get in the way. Feelings. Trevellyan. Those beautiful eyes, smiling up at him as he told a story. But what story was it again? And why was he telling her? What did her eyes have to do with it? He didn't seem to remember them being remarkable in any way. Suddenly he panicked, What color are her eyes again? He remembered it being a very important detail, but couldn't remember why. It didn't seem important. What had he done, and why was his heart racing?!

Cullen awoke with a start, shot straight up, coated in a sheen of sweat. Quickly he pulled up his arms, checking to see if there was a trace of the electric, piercing blue he had dreamt of and finding nothing but the regular hue of his veins and sun kissed skin. Letting out a sharp breath of relief, he grasped his forehead in both hands and forced himself to catch two large breaths in an attempt to slow his heart and mind. Grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes he stopped to assure himself it was just a dream once more before resolving to pull the covers from his body which had become twisted around his legs from apparent thrashing. Once he had untangled himself he quickly dressed and descended from his loft. At the bottom he caught sight of his heavy desk and paused. The blasted kit that plagued him resided within, and he suddenly felt the need to locate it, if only to assure himself it was still there and he had not consumed it. He rounded the other side and went to the normal drawer he held it in. Removing the false bottom he felt his heart jump within his chest when it was not where it should be. Skin growing cold, he made a panicked mental sweep of where it could be before realizing he had moved it several days before and never returned it. Checking the top drawer of his desk he located the box, haphazardly covered by reports and one edge smudged in wax seal. He pulled the box from the drawer, ignoring the paperwork and rest it upon the heavy wood. Opening the container, he released a breath he had held captive for longer than he realized. Everything was in it's place, and the one remaining drought still full. These nightmares were getting to be too much and he was not sure how much more he could handle. He had seen what lyrium withdrawal had done to his fellow Templars, driving them mad, making them see demons within their own comrades, within themselves. Lyrium, for all it's good and power, was a leash, one that he had obviously not shaken and his conviction was waning. He was not aware of how long he had contemplated the box or it's contents before he heard the heavy door before him creak open.

Those beautiful eyes he had so feared losing met his as he raised his gaze, finally deciding she needed to know what he had been holding within him. Realizing it was too late to secure the box away, he pushed away from the desk, resting his hand upon the hilt of his sword as he straightened. "As leader of the Inquisition, you… There is something I must tell you." It was, after all, now her Inquisition and as Commander he owed her explanation should he get worse, or if she found him unfit.

She was quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing, eyes quizzical. "Anything. Whatever it is, I am willing to listen," she offered, and stated no more, waiting for his response.

He did not expect her to be quite so accommodating and was taken aback by the lack of accusation. Of course, she had her moments where she was stern and he was never sure when they would be. He quickly explained lyrium to her, it's use and it's effect, the fact that it was a possible death sentence for abstainers. He rounded over the desk again, looking at the box and within it the liquid that plagued him so. "I no longer take it."

"You stopped?" Her question was innocent with a hint of surprise.

He couldn't raise his gaze to meet hers, even though he felt it burn into the back of his neck. He could not stand her disappointment, but had to answer honestly. He told her it had been months, since before I knew you.

"But, Cullen, you could die, why are you doing this?" Her tone was not accusatory, more of a sad concern for him. She must realized the seriousness of his situation, but he did not wish to scare her. This was his burden, and he only told her out of respect, not to incur pity, fear or suspicion.

"After Kirkwall, I couldn't -" a brief flash of the horrors came to him and he caught his breath. "I will not be bound to the order, or that life, any longer." He explained to her that he did not intend to put the Inquisition in danger, and that Cassandra was a fail safe in the event he could not perform his duties. Surprisingly, her first question was if he was in pain, and he answered with a much milder version of the truth. She had even thanked him for telling her, which he did not expect. Shirking one's duty was not always seen as a strength, but a weakness, and he was glad she did not see it as the latter. He reassured her that he would put the need of the many above himself, which he thought would have an approving reaction from the Inquisitor.

Instead, her eyes went a little wider and the side of her mouth pulled down into a frown. "Cullen, you are just as important as any other soldier we have out there. Make sure you make time to take care of yourself as well. I need you to exemplify our troops at the Winter Palace, and if you have the pallor you do now, they'll all think our army could be blown over by a light spring breeze." Her jab granting him a small grin.

Sensing her attempt to lighten the mood as a chance to change topic he seized it, much to her obvious relief. "Speaking of Halamshiral, we will be leaving with a small contingent in two days time. We will need to take the Ferelden side of the mountain pass, as it is more strategic for the number of troops we will have with us."

She nodded her head affirmative but added "won't that be backtracking? How much time will it add to our journey?"

"It will actually remove two days time from our travel out of Gherlen's Pass."

"Sounds like a sound choice then, Commander," she gave a reassuring smile before excusing herself from his office.

As she turned he called out to her, "Inquisitor, I do have one other request, if I may."

She turned back, a look of interest on her face, an eyebrow arched. "Since our travel will take us to Ferelden, I was wondering if we could make a stop somewhere. I promise it will not deter from our main path towards the Waking Sea."

"Am I sensing an ulterior motive, Commander?" Hands set upon her hips came to cross in front of her chest. Her weight shifted to her back leg and her hip popped out to accentuate the curves already there. A dark smirk played upon her lips, causing him to swallow hard.

Reflexively, a hand came up to scratch at the back of his neck, and his eyes cast about the floor, needing to focus on anything other than the form before him. "I just wish to show you something, if it is not too much trouble," he mumbled, finally raising his gaze to meet hers.

"I would love to see it, Cullen," she dropped her arms to her side, gave him one last genuine smile she was out the door.

Relief washed over him at the realization of how well she had taken the news of his experiment was. That was what it was, really, an experiment as no known Templar had tried what he was. If she was going to support him in this he was going to pay her back with his gratitude. She would not be disappointed in him. With renewed vigor he shut the box and dropped it back into the lower drawer, shutting it without a second thought.

-.-.-.-.-

By the time they reached Lake Calenhad the sun was beginning to set over the mountain range and the sky was bathed in beautiful hues of pink and orange. The Inquisitor rode a few paces ahead and Cullen could not help the small grin on his face as he watched her with her comrades. Sera had said something that made Lady Trevelyan's face twist in confusion before she shook her head and laughed. Throwing her head back, the crimson braid she wore slid from her shoulder and down the length of her back. It was more common for her to hold it within a high bun, and rarely was the length of it obvious quite like it was now. For a moment he wished he could pull the tie from the length of her hair and comb out the locks, feeling the silken tresses between his fingers. He imagined she would turn her head, exposing that long, smooth neck and he could only imagine how it would feel to ghost his fingers from her ear to her collar bone, the soft cool skin under his fingertips -

The moment was dashed as Bull pulled his large mount alongside Cullen's horse. The Qunari simply grunted at him in greeting as Cullen turned to look at him. Bull's brow furrowed as he looked from Cullen to the other members of their caravan. "How's it going, Chief? Your ass hurt yet? Bet you can't wait to get off." Bull mumbled the words with a half chuckle.

"Excuse me, Bull?" he released with a stuttering gasp, Cullen's eyes widening in shock. Bull was no prude, but he didn't realize he had been so obvious in his daydream to warrant such a statement. Flabbergasted, he searched for the right words, and hoped they wouldn't give him away. "I am not sure -"

"The damned horse, Commander. My ass is killing me. We should stop soon." Cullen could swear he saw a smirk and a sideways glance from the massive warrior, but when he turned to lock eyes with him there was nothing but innocence looking back at him.

Clearing his throat, Cullen nodded in agreeance, "oh, yes, of course Bull. There is a town near by, this would make a good place to make camp. I will go let the others know." With that he took his leave, leading his horse into a trot to catch up with the Inquisitor. Pulling up alongside them he caught the tail end of their conversation.

"And so I told him he best give up the what's-it before he gets it in his smudgy little face!" Sera scrunched up her nose, as if mocking the subject of her story.

This elicited a light chuckle from the Herald, a smile still gracing her face as he rode up alongside her.

"Oh, hey there, Captain Ogre. Here to ruin fun, are you?" Sera snipped his way before darting her tongue out of her mouth. "Well, since Mr. Shiny Boots is here must be something up.

Best for me to get down!" Sera turned her horse and waited as the caravan passed, slowly fading from view.

"Captain Ogre?" Cullen questioned.

Lady Trevelyan shrugged, "she says you stomp like an ogre, or a giant nug."

Cullen could not help but laugh at that, "Giant nug. Perish the thought." The little pink, hairless, squealing things were awkward enough, he could hardly imagine a bigger version. "Inquisitor, I came to see if you would like to set up camp. This is the general area I requested we stop by when we were still in Skyhold, and it is a safe area. Our forces could do with food and rest as well."

Her brow furrowed in consideration as she studied the surrounding terrain much as he had moments before. Determining there was no disadvantage, she motioned to a scout to notify the small force they would be stopping. They rounded their horses into a nearby field and dismounted, removing any necessities from their saddles and helping the troops set up the tents.

It took some time for the soldiers to set up the camp, and when they were done with the task a fire was roaring at the edge of the camp and a stew was boiling in the pot hanging above it. After eating what he could, the food not quite to par with what he had become accustomed to within the hold, he sought out the Inquisitor. A scout told him she had left with Bull, Dorian, and Sera to search the nearby area, probably for enemy forces or some quest for resources, and he used that time to study the map from his saddle bag as well as some dossiers about the Empress and the Grand Duke. He was not one to go into a situation unaware and wanted to know as much about this situation as possible. He cursed himself for being so uninterested when Josephine tried to discuss the situation with him, only now considering it important days before they arrived.

Setting himself over a makeshift table of stones he set his paperwork out for easy access and lit a lantern. He studied the parchments, making notes and crossing others out, until his lids grew heavy and he could not keep his head up.

He was shocked awake by his arm shifting, causing the inkwell to spill deep blue ink across the stone. He raised his head, squeezing his eyes tightly and blinking a couple times. Noticing the spreading fluid, he gathered up what parchment wasn't destroyed and moved away from the rocks, securing them back into his saddle bags. When he turned back he noticed the lantern glowing low and decided to seek out the campfire instead, convinced the time must be late. He took a few stumbled steps towards the still burning fire, rubbing at the growing ache in his head. His eyes were closed and he did not see the shield propped against the support of a tent until it was too late, making a loud clanking noise and toppling over. A surprised gasp came from the other side of the tent, near to the fire, and he rounded to see the Inquisitor sitting alone, eyes wide and locked on him.

"I'm sorry, Herald, I did not mean to frighten you." He shifted his weight and ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I didn't think anyone would be up this late." He moved out of the shadows and towards the stump at the edge of the fire she sat upon. He unlatched his sword and rest it alongside the stones he chose as his own resting spot. "I'm having a little trouble sleeping," he offered when her gaze did not relent from him.

"I fear I am having trouble as well," she relaxed, her shoulders curving forward and around her body. He was not used to seeing her anything other than refined. Even when covered in dirt and grime on return from an excursion, she still did not let her shoulders sag. "Out of everything I've had to face lately, I did not think a few nobles and their squabbles would disrupt me this much." She sat staring into the flames, one arm wrapped around her knees while the other used a stick to poke into the dirt around the fire.

A sudden spark came to mind and he had the perfect idea to cheer her up, or at least he hoped it was a great idea.

"I have just the thing, Lady Trevelyan." He smiled and motioned for her to stay where she was. He ducked lightly into his tent and scuffled about, searching for something in particular. Once he found the box he was looking for he emerged, a smile across his face. He strode across the camp ground towards the fire where she sat and passed her the wooden box. It was thin, only a couple inches tall, but a very large square, a little over a foot long or wide. One side had two doors that were held shut with a metal latch. The small doors were intricate in design with a type of vine, Lothering Roses to be precise. When he was younger he would run his hands along the grooves, trying to memorize the strokes his father had made when carving it. When he was in Kirkwall he would think of it again, this time trying to remember the blooms of Ferelden in a method to cure his homesickness. His sister had written him and sent him the box when she had notice he joined the Inquisition, and he could not be more happy to have it.

Templars were never allowed tokens from their former lives, but this reminded him of who he was and what he was fighting to regain. He didn't expect her to know that importance though, and hoped she didn't notice how rough and aged the board was.

She looked up at him questioningly, and he simply nodded in response. He watched as she unhooked the metal and swung the hinges to expose the chessboard hidden within. Bloodstone and Quartz carved pieces lay scattered across the board, and the same materials made up the playing field within. When her gaze rose to his, this time there was a wide smile across her face.

"I did promise you a game of chess, did I not?" He could not help but smile back. "Come, I have just the place we can sit and play. That is, if you are up to it?" He held out a hand to her, palm up, as an invitation.

If it were possible, he would have said her grin broadened as she reached up and took hold of his hand, and hoisting herself up beside him. Releasing his grasp, she hugged the box to her as they walked away from the camp and towards a small path leading into a wooded area. She had noticed it earlier, but hadn't questioned if they were in a high traffic area. Cullen seemed familiar with the region, and her group had scouted earlier, not noticing any danger lurking, but she was not sure what could be in the area once darkness fell. Cullen reached out to grasp the lantern he had been using earlier, filled it with more oil and they set off onto the wooded path.

They continued in companionable silence for a time before she suddenly turned to look at him. She did not ask a question, simply studied him, making him all the more nervous as time went by. After a few moments he laughed and cocked his head at her.

"So why chess? You told me your sister played, but you did not go much beyond that"

"Well, as I told you, she liked to play, and she played well. She would always have this stuck up grin when she won, which was always since I was only a child and she was much older than I. My brother helped me practice in secret for weeks. When I finally beat her, oh you should have seen the look on her face." He chuckled, the scar on his lip pulling taut across his teeth.

"Where is she now? And your brother?" She tightened her hold on the box as they stepped over an overgrown root in the path.

"They moved to South Reach after the Blight. I do not write as often as I should, but Mia sent me this board recently, and I want to try it out. Figured it would be put to good use on the trip."

She smiled, but did not say anything. They continued, side by side, until they came upon the small dock he had been searching for. She let out a small gasp when they came to the clearing, taking in the sight of the lake.


	7. 7 Lakeside

Thank you so much to those that have been patient and stayed with me through this! I hope the changes I make from cannon are not too unattractive, even though I am trying to keep it as true as possible (at least for now) to the source. Please let me know if I miss something, or make a mistake, I'd be happy to correct it. And while feedback is not necessary, it is always appreciated :) I can not promise that I will update on a regular schedule, as my life is a bit hectic, but I do not plan to give up or let it go unfinished. Happy reading!

As always, I do not own Dragon Age, and simply exert my whims on their creations :)

* * *

Lady Trevelyan mindlessly tangled her hands together, rubbing her palms over the backs of her hands to try to absorb warmth before clasping them in front of her mouth, elbows planted firmly on either knee, and gave a mischievous glare over the tops of her knuckles. If he had been any less observant he might have thought she was plotting his demise and chuckled at the thought. When she moved to coax the heat from her hands again she was surprised when strong, calloused hands caught hold of hers. His grasp was sure but gentle and he could not help but stare in fascination at how much larger his were than hers. Both pairs were honed, molded by their crafts - so similar in use but so differently affected by it. It would almost be hard for him to believe she did anything other than wrap them in silk at all times if he was not keenly familiar with the precision they held a bow or dagger.

In the flickering light her eyes danced as she silently watched him, but did not pull away from his hold. The skin on the backs of her hands were soft and chilled, and he soaked up the feeling of bare skin to bare skin for just a moment before pulling her hands towards his mouth. Her eyes did not leave his, studying his face, as he motioned to form her hands into a bowl, his cupping her smaller ones. He inhaled deeply and released a long, hot breath from the depths of his chest into her clasped hands to warm them, like his mother would do when he was a child.

When he exhausted his lungs he rubbed his toughened thumbs over the insides of her palms. Just before releasing them back to her he noticed a blemish on her right hand. A scar that ran along the edge of her palm closest to her little finger, thin and barely noticeable. He had studied the rift scar on her left hand in hopes of learning the magic behind it in the past, but had never taken notice of the other. It was such a simple blemish on her skin, but it provoked him to want to know more, and he suddenly ached to know of every mark upon her silken skin and the story behind each one. He only realized he had paused when he felt her slowly pulled them back from his grasp.

Regaining his composure, he took a sharp breath before looking into her eyes for the first time. "Better?" he cleared his throat.

"Much," she replied slowly, her curious eyes not leaving his. He could swear she was studying him, and the feeling of being examined made him nervous, uncomfortable. Reflexively he cast his eyes to the ground and squeezed at his shoulder muscles, shifting his weight and squirming beneath her stare. I acted rashly and she is uncomfortable, a voice inside his head chided him. Why hasn't she reprimanded me yet? He tried to quiet the voice before it drove him insane. It took him a moment to decide what he would say in his defense - that he was concerned about the cold, anything - when her cheerful voice rang out.

"Prepare the board, Commander" her eyes glowed with a mischievous glint. "It appears I have won this round, and my reign has just begun."

He couldn't help but chuckle. It wasn't clear if she had noticed his discomfort and gave him an easy out, or if it was just in her nature not to dwell, but he silently thanked her for the diversion regardless. They played for some time, throwing shade at each other, taunting one another. They spoke on a plethora of topics, and eventually the conversation lost out to the challenge of the game, leaving each other in a silence that Cullen could only hope was as comfortable to her as it was to him.

-.-.-.-.-

She shivered again, barely noticeable as she was getting better at concealing it, but he caught the small motion she made when she tightened her arm around her chest. It was only then that he realized she wore only her undershirt and trousers, the normal armor, or even the leather vest she wore around the hold was nowhere to be found. He began to notice how the loosened shirt showed a couple more inches of her collarbone, inches he had dreamed of but never thought he would see, exposing the milky skin hidden beneath. The way the ties, loose and hanging, glided across the front of her shirt when she motioned to move a piece on the board. The ties that he could swear grazed and outlined a taut nub underneath the thin material. When her arm returned to the resting place against her chest the material tightened as well and the flickering lantern aided in highlighting the gentle curves of her bust.

A gentle chuckle pulled him out of his trance to find a set of questioning raised eyebrows over emerald eyes. "You gonna make a move?"

Maker, if she only knew. The sly look on her face almost made him think she understood the double meaning of her words, but he was never one to try his luck. He never deemed it important for a woman to be chaste, but considering she was in a rather public courtship with Blackwall he doubted she was the kind of person to take relationships so casually or to disregard any feelings involved. "Patience, Inquisitor. Chess, like war, takes strategy and should not be rushed into."

"I think it more likely you are afraid you have met your match and are simply drawing out the inevitable," She tilted her head from one side to the other, feigning innocence. A pointed glare met her sparkling eyes as a reward for her quip. She shivered again, this time more noticeably and rubbed her left arm vigorously with her right hand.

Quickly Cullen reached for the clasp on his fur and swung it from around his shoulders. Lifting to his knees he stretched over the board and motioned to swing the hide around her shoulders, the bottom edge catching the board and flinging the pieces from their original playing field. He mumbled an embarrassed apology while fastening the cloak, engulfing and much too large for her smaller frame.

When he pulled back they locked eyes for a brief moment before a grin crossed her face, "Thank you, Cullen," she mumbled, a hand reaching up to pull at some of the fur around the nape of her neck. A calloused hand rubbed at the back of his head and a laugh, sounding more like a cough, escaped his lips. His embarrassment drove his eyes away from her and to the grass below them, finally noticing the scattered pieces of the chessboard.

When he moved to start picking them up she followed, checking to make sure they were not missing any pieces when they were done. "Well, Commander, what a strategy. You sense you are losing and you sabotage the game. I daresay I hope that is not your battlefield tactic." He huffed at her jab and secured the chessboard, setting it to the side, before looking back over to her.

"Well, it looks as if we are done playing for the night. Thank you, Inquisitor for the company and the competition," he smirked. "Shall we make our way back to the camp?" Cullen began to stand, only getting one knee out of the grass before her words stopped him.

"I wouldn't mind if we stayed here a little longer, if that's ok." She was looking at the ground, still wrapped in his furs when he glanced over at her.

A small smile broke across his face, and he moved, finding a comfortable position to lie in the grass. Following his movements, he motioned for her to do the same, and Trevelyan easily moved to lie near him, gazing at the night sky after dousing the lantern they had brought along. Thousands of lights sparkled from above, dancing in the purple, blue, and black swirled landscape of the sky. The sound of the water lapping at the lake edge, the light sound of the wilderness in the night suspended them in a moment where time did not exist. He was acutely aware of the satisfied sigh he heard emit from the woman to his side, turning his head, to look at her.

"This is nice," she whispered, not taking her eyes from the sky. "Thank you, Cullen."

"It's my pleasure, Inquisitor." The sense of pride he felt in her reaction was doused when he started to think about the situation. If they took too long, and a sentry noticed it would appear that their relationship was more than it was - a fledgling friendship. Though his heart quickened its pace at the thought, he knew better than to tarnish the Inquisitor's reputation for such selfish reasons. "Though I am sorry Blackwall was not able to make it on the excursion. I am sure such a location could be better appreciated with him, although I am glad I have the honor of experiencing this evening with you."

Shifting from her back to rest her weight on her elbows, she pulled herself from the soft grass and furrowed her brow over at him, a look of annoyance splayed cleanly on her face. "Why would you think to say that, Commander?"

Sensing he had made her uncomfortable, he moved to try to ease the tension, "I do not mean to pry, Inquisitor. I was just trying to be mindful, madame. I understand the sensitivity of… your relations." It was painful to confirm the situation she had with Blackwall, no, the relationship, he realized as he tried to choke out the last words.

Though he knew he greatly respected and admired his leader, he did not think she had such a pull on his emotions on a personal level. Sure, he thought of her often, and she had graced his dreams a few times, he had her considerably in his thoughts when making any decisions related to his position, and only sent his best soldiers to be part of her detail, but that was just because she was such a close proximity as his leader, and needed that special attention.

It was only natural that he would admire her so, wasn't it?

"Please, Cullen!" Trevelyan's eyes widened. "We may be close, but we are not… intimate, if that was what you were presuming." The flush of embarrassment tinged her cheeks a light red.

"Cullen," she huffed, dropping her weight to return her back to the ground, eyes firmly on the sky. "I think there has been a bit of a miscommunication on your part between just how… amicable... Blackwall and I may be." She sighed. Cullen shifted to look at her, although she would not pry her eyes off the burning lights in the sky.

"There is no doubt the man thinks highly of the Inquisitor. Maker, I shouldn't be sharing this with you -" she continued but cut herself off, burrowing her face into the furs she had yet to relinquish to him. "I mean, even when he holds me, I still feel alone." The last bit came at a whisper, mostly intended for the woman herself, and she mindlessly rubbed her arm. Cullen had to curl his fingers into his palm to keep from raising his hand to comfort her himself.

He did not wish to provoke her indignation and scrambled to find the right words to apologize. His words did not come soon enough before she continued, much softer of voice, and less assured than he had ever heard her before.

"He says he loves me."

The words waifed into the air, and there they sat for a few moments before she continued. "Honestly, he hardly knows me, yet he can make that claim on me." Incredulity laced her words before she snorted in disbelief.

"Well, Inquisitor, I don't doubt his opinion of you, whether you believe it misguided or not. A man would have to be a fool to not take one look at you and realize your worth is beyond measure." His words drifted off as he spoke. She finally released her gaze on the sky and glanced at him, causing Cullen to snap his own away from her. He was too embarrassed by the suggestive statement to meet her eyes.

Several moments had passed before Cullen offered to her again,"Perhaps we should return to camp?"

Smiling, Trevelyan turned her head back towards the sky, "I think I prefer this spot. If you would like to go back you can." Coming off as a question more than an order, Cullen chuckled.

"I think I prefer this spot as well, my lady."

"Very good," the Inquisitor said, snuggling deeper into the fur. Cullen could swear that in her movements she ended up several inches closer to his side.

After some time studying the stars the faint sound of snoring came from beside him. Sparing a glance in her direction he found her comfortably asleep, and decided he would join her. Drifting into his own peaceful pool of blackness for the night, he managed a full night bereft of nightmares for the first time in weeks

-.-.-.-.-

The crisp morning air and blazing sun were the first things to pull him from his slumber. Prying open one eye, Cullen acclimated his sight; the spot that had so welcomingly provided them a breathtaking view of the night sky was now providing him painful awareness that it did not also harbor shade. To add to the unforgiving blight that was the sun - the ground, that was now damp with morning dew, had weaved knots into his muscles and reminded him that perhaps bedrolls were not as uncomfortable as he had often lamented.

As the final vestiges of sleep faded and the fog receded from his mind he shot bolt right up in a panic.

The Herald.

They had stayed out all night, and as blissful as he was, he was also mortified. What if someone walked by and saw them? Twisting around, he was further panicked when he did not see her in sight. What if she had gotten lost? It took him a couple moments before he could finally calm his nerves - this was the Inquisitor after all, and he was sure she'd probably see more places in the short time she'd been in her position then he had, potentially, in his life. It was only when he finally looked down did he notice the chessboard was also missing, save for one very particular piece - the knight.


End file.
